The Doctor at Hogwash
by Tosseract
Summary: The Tardis has found a source of irrational energies, the kind not seen since the days of old Gagifrey, deep in the heart of contemporary Britain. Can Amy and the Doctor save the world from potential disaster? Who is Harry? Does anyone actually like Ron?


The Tardis ground to a halt with the same cyclical screeching it had done a thousand times before. Amy quickly scoffed the last few chocolate from the box in her mottled hands and rammed her greasy forefingers in her ears. She hated that noise. It reminded her of the inellegant groaning her fiancee used to make outside her room when she bought other guys home. She scowled at the thought of his reedy sobs, kicking the crumb-laden box across the floor of the vehicle to intercept perfectly with the Doctors right eye.

"I say m'dear, that hurt like the dickens!" He crooned energetically, cradling his ruined occular orbit.

"Shut up!" She barked. "Where are we _this _time?" The Doctor cringed like a kicked dog, grinning desperately from among the scattered chocolate boxes and greasy fast-food containers that littered the ship.

"Well Love, I thought we'd take a moment out of our busy schedule to touch base at home for a bit." she took a menacing step forward, her stilettoed feet wobbling uncertainly.

"You interupted my seduction of popular bible figures to take me back to my dreary old husband?" She rumbled. The Doctor flinched, his injured eye swelling at an alarming rate.

"Not quite, miss Pond. The Tardis has picked up a rather strange energy signature out in the middle of nowhere. It seems to be almost as excited by a good mystery as I am, so it's homed right in. Nothing to be done." He flinched again, expecting for her wrath to fall upon him. She contemplated giving him whatfore briefly before deciding that it would take too much effort. She collapsed onto the expensive couch she had forced him to install in front of the Tardis' core, so as to facilitate efficient heckling.

"Fine. There'd better be candy though." she rubbed her swollen belly, a sliver of drool rolling down her lips as she contemplated the multitude of treats she planned to indulge in. The doctor gave her a slavish simper and scuttled to the viewscreen. He punched in a set of cartesian coordinates, the queens birthday, his height to body mass ratio, and an encoded message for help. He gave the dashboard a sharp thump and the screen lit up, presenting the pair of them with a bleary view of an ancient, dilapidated castle.

"So, what is it this time? Stone angels? The risen dead? Some artifact of old Gagifrey?" She sneered, squinting at the tiny monitor. The Doctor pressed a few more buttons and the castle started glowing an ethereal blue.

"That's something new now isn't it!" He ejaculated, running a tight circle around the ships core and donning another tweed jacket, which he was unfortunately unable to get past his elbows due to the two already in place upon his back. "Now lets see..." He rummaged around in a conveniently placed cupboard, humming a rather cheery tune about sexual violence that had been on the charts for one week during the decline of a long-dead civilization thirty million years previously. It was nonetheless inexplicably popular against the more edgy of Londons substancial indie population, after Amy had made him sell the only surviving copy of the album to purchase her an unpleasantly gaudy set of rings. He found what he was looking for immediately, but let the last notes of the song bleed tunelessly away before he removed it.

"Ta-Daaaaa!" He cried in triumph, holding aloft what appeared to be a thin glass rod filled with various fluids, separated by thin silver discs.

"what is that piece of crap?" She scoffed, absentmindedly fishing for chocolate crumbs on her voluminous dress. He gave her a pleased if maniacal look.

"Why, it's a thin glass rod filled with various fluids, separated by thin silver discs!" he brayed with laughter, prancing about the cluttered cabin.

"It's called a Thaumometer," he continued, still bounding and leaping like an uncoordinated gazelle. "And it's used to sense the potential for miracles!"

"Miracles?" He wrapped another scarf around his neck, this one a violent shade of pink.

"Oh, such a narrow word for it! I swear, your race are so terribly unimaginative. You know, in the tongue of my people we called it _ka'tali."_ He gave her a look of superiority, which she determined he would pay greatly for later.

"And what does that mean, oh mighty time god?" She gulped, absently trying to trip him as he galloped past.

"It translates roughly to 'miracle'" He conceded. "But I digress! It can detect energies outside the domain of rational physics. A billion years of chronomechanics and non-linear mathematics gave the Time Lords a pretty good grasp of what was conventionally impossible, and how to perform such feats using only household items." He grinned expectantly at her, his right eye slowly leaking what appeared to be the Time Lord analogy for vitreous humour.

"How does it work then?" He held it up to the light.

"Well, simply put, we should observe a tranformational reaction with these various sensitive solutions. There, look!" He said, slowly moving the glass rod closer to the shimmering crystals at the ships heart. At about ten centimetres away, one of the fluids suddenly turned purple and the rod emitted a high thrum like a choir singing. The Doctor opened the compartment and poured it into his mouth.

"Bleugh!" He spat. "Not even aged! I swear, time was this old girl would have produced french stuff. Old french stuff. Not this cleanskin swill!" He wiped his mouth.

"What the hell are you babbling about, Doctor?" She fixed him with a steely glare.

"Wine, dear girl. Irrational energies can be measured by the range at which they turn water- and various other significant substances- into wine, and the quality of said wine."

"That's just patiently ridiculous! Do you take me for an idiot?" She barked.

"Not at all, my little love-grub! It makes perfect sense, and I know for a fact you have a strong religious precedent! I swear, that Jesus fiasco was a bit of a lark! The power to write whole worlds out of existance and he spends most of his time making wine and molesting lepers. Great hair though." He said, spooning great dollops of gel into his own shiny mop. Amy stared blankly at him, wondering when he was going to start pandering her again. Alas, the doors chose that moment to open.

"No time to lose!" He said, the desperation laid plain in his excited squeak. He dove for the door, glass baton in hand. Grumbing darkly, she stood up and waddled uncertainly after him.

The Tardis it seemed had materialised in the middle of the expansive castles great hall. In stark contrast to the crumbling face it presented the world, the inside was clean and well maintained. Great fireplaces spaced evenly along the walls kept the vast room warm, and cast a comfortable light on four long tables of oak that ran parallel along the length of the room.

"What are you doing up there?" Amy yelled from the door of the Tardis. The Doctor had ascended the dais that stood at the far end of the hall, where a rumpled old pointed hat sat on a stool, looking disused and lonely. The Doctor plucked the hat from the stool with a bright chirping and rammed it onto his bonce.

"What?" He asked with an air of indignation. "I wear a wizards hat now. Wizard hats are cool." Amy was about to reply with a typically clever retort- probably something disparaging the dimensions of his genetalia- when the hat cracked in twain and piped up in a fruity lisp.

"Oooh, a new student!" It trilled. "How exciting! Let's see now. A doctor, then? How exotic! And so brave, a real Byronic hero. A man on a mission- And to save humanity throughout perpetuity no less! And so fashionable! Well, I'd just love to put you in Gryffindor, but I'm afraid we have a strict school policy of only one messianic figure per house. Best be SLYTHERIN!" It warbled the last word operatically, and fell silent. Amy and the Doctor locked eyes, neither moving an inch. From the far end of the room, the sounds of commotion were heard outside the room.

"I told you wizard hats were cool." The Doctor grinned. A thin dribble of blood rolled from beneath his fat, discoloured eyelid.

"Let me have a turn!" Roared Amy, waddling up the steep steps and throwing the doctor bodily from the dais, grabbing the hat from his head as he fell. With only a little effort she rammed it over her sparse, greasy hair.

"Tell me I'm pretty!" She screeched. The hat groaned.

"Oh, I feel so violated! Lets get this over with then. Self-absorbed; Poor impulse control; A lack of empathy; Obviously unmotivated to learn. Goodness, I've rarely seen anyone lean so strongly towards GRYFFINDOR! Now take me off at once." It added in a stage whisper. She threw it down to the crumpled mound that was the Doctor.

"Clean yourself up at once!" She demanded.

"Oh nooo! Body fluids never come out!" The hat squealed in protest as the doctor daubed at the larger contusions on his face.

"What was all that about?" He asked, his smile displaying a few bloody gaps. Amy frowned at the door into the great hall, which was now admitting a half dozen or so elderly men in what appeared to be shapeless dresses.

"Shut up! Someones coming." She said, striking a pose she hoped was alluring and mysterious. The Doctor managed to hide his nausea as crippling agony caused by his injuries.

"I say, this is certainly shaping up as something of an adventure!" He got shakily to his feet and put the hat back on.

"Back for more?" It crooned. He threw it against a wall and wiped his hands down on his rumpled jacket. He quickly ran another handful of gel through his hair and turned to face the approaching crowd, led by what appeared to be an elderly transvestite.

"Hello then chaps! No need for alarm, but I've detected some potentially devestating energy emanations from your fine abode and was wondering if I might take a look around. I do so hate it when irrational energies threaten the very fabric of reality!" The elderly man frowned, pointing a small, slightly bent stick at him with the air of one wielding a gun.

"There are wards in place to stop apparation in the school grounds. How did you get here?"

"Wards you say? I was wondering what all that interference was." A young man, no older than eighteen, pushed to the front of the group and stood next to the elder.

"They're death-eaters, Professor! We should kill them!" The old man gave him a soft smile, stroking his hair affectionately.

"Now now Harry, we don't know that for sure. In fact, unless I was otherwise deceived, I think I might have heard the sorting hat sort them!" He let his hand linger in Harrys stylishly dishevelled hair.

"Come off it Harry! They seem alright to me!" Spoke the voice of a young man behind them. Sublime fury crystallized on Harry's face and he wheeled around.

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, FAGGOT?" He screamed into the face of a gangly, red-haired youth, who paled and shrunk away.

"I- I- c-called you the b-boy who liv-" He spluttered vainly.

"Fucking-A you did!"Harry roared, and punched him bodily in the stomach. The professor chuckled indulgently as the bloodnut sunk to the ground, moaning.

"Now, where were we?" He asked, turning back to the Doctor, who stood aghast. "Oh yes, the sorting hat! You were put into houses, eh?" From its place sunken to the floor, the hat piped up.

"Slytherin and Gryffindor!" It chirped. The professors face broke into a grin.

"Oh, you've no idea how happy that makes me!" He said, and pulled the Doctor into a tight hug. "Welcome to Gryffindor, son." He rested his head companionably against the Doctors chest and made a variety of delightedly contented noises.

"Well, in point of fact-"The Doctor quavered nervously as the elderly mans hands moved steadily southward down his back. Then Amy broke in, irritated noone had commented on her alluring and mysterious pose.

"Oi! I'm the Gryffyboy one!" She smirked triumphantly as everybody turned their attention to her. The Professor unceremoniously let go of the Doctor, who fell to the ground and lay dazed as the men filed past him without so much as a look.

"My mistake, dear girl! Lets get you out of the presence of this scum." He shook his head sadly at the Doctor. "I'm ever so disappointed in you. Fifty points from Slytherin for lying."

"But-" The Doctor began.

"Make it a hundred!" Spat Harry, fingering a massive, vaguely lightning-bolt shaped gash on his forehead. The professor nodded sagely.

"Right as always dear boy. Two hundred points to Gryffindor for sagacity. Come on then dear, I'll show you your quarters." He cast another dirty look at the Doctor as he shuffled by. the others followed sullenly in his wake.

"Take this one to loser central, faggot." Harry clipped the redhead on the shoulder as he went by. He gave the Doctor an apologetic look.

"Sorry you had to see that. All my fault." He gave a desperate grin, his eyes filling with tears. "He's my best friend, you know." The Doctor got up again. He was getting sick of it, and made a resolution to stay standing for a little while.

"Alright," He said, pulling a fourth scarf from one of his pockets and adding it to his ensemble. "Lets see what all this Slytherin's about."

Thin streams of frost flecked water dribbled slowly from the many gaps in the rudely-hewn stone roof, collecting in icy puddles on the rough cobbles. The Doctor looked around in dismay at the small clusters of students huddling away from the partially collapsed walls of the common room. A few of the more enterprising appeared to be burning their wands in a vain effort to ward off hypothermia.

"Well, uh," The red-headed boy said. "I guess I should get back to gryffindor commons. I think Ha- I think the boy who lived needs me." He corrected quickly, his bottom lip trembling with the vivid recollection of past punishments. A stream of translucent mucus ran from his right nostril. Before the Doctor could reply he pushed past and ran from the room, his choked sobs echoing down the corridor.

"Right then! Time for a spot of reconnaissance methinks." he said, brushing his hair back from his brow, where it had been stylishly accruing. It made subtle crunching noises as the frost-rimed gel shattered. He sauntered up to the nearest person, a skeletal young man perched awkwardly on a seat composed of two shivering neanderthals.

"God cuss your eyes Goyle, Hold still!" He gasped, weakly slapping at the face of one of his quasi-human mounts. It made an animal whining and cringed away. The beast chastised, The gaunt boy turned his waxy paper-white face toward the Doctor, his sunken eyes shining with malice.

"Fresh blood, eh?" he coughed, a deep broncheal death-rattle, punctuated by an explosion of mucus.

"Oh, in a manner of speaking I suppose," Said the Doctor, trying surreptitiously to diagnose the boy without actually making physical contact. "To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" The boy, with a truly heroic effort, managed to raise his head from his chest and hold it hautily in the air for a second or so.

"I'm the slytherin head boy, for what it's worth." He coughed again, hacking up great juicy globules of bloody snot. "And this is my kingdom." He swept his arm lamely around the dark dungeon.

"I must confess, I was expecting something perhaps slightly more inhabitable, given the grandeur of the rest of the castle." He said, pulling a variety of amusing faces. The boy bared his bloody teeth in an amused rictus.

"At least we've got plenty of pumpkin juice on hand." He pointed to a large vat near the centre of the room, which bubbled evilly.

"I say, that's rather an unusual comestible." The boy gave the floor a dirty look.

"Tell me about it. Gryffindor fuckers get coke."

"Gryffindor, you say?" The Doctor inquired. "That was the one Amy was drafted into." He watched as an emaciated student attempting to walk to the juice-filled cauldron fell flat on their face in one of the icy puddles. They struggled to extricate themselves feebly for a few minutes before coming to rest, slumped face-down in half a centimetre of water. No one else appeared to notice.

"I rather hope she's alright."

Amy stared into the roaring fireplace, feeling her hair begin to singe from the heat. The gothic monstrocity engulfed nearly a whole wall of the hangar-sized common room, screaming like a jet engine as it burnt within its depths what appeared to be a mixture of gold ingots, whole trees and other, smaller fireplaces.

"DON'T YOU DARE LOOK AWAY, FAGGOT! ARE YOU TOO GOOD FOR YOUR SISTER?" Harry tore his mouth from that of a young girl to scream at his luckless cohort, who had briefly averted his eyes from watching them snog to whimper in misery.

"No sir, please-" He got no further, as Harry chose that moment to kick him in the face. He fell moaning to the floor, bleeding copiously on the thick plush carpet.

"What a poof!" laughed his sister, rummaging around in the front of Harrys pants. This was greeted by a round of polite applause from the rest of the gold-plated rooms inhabitants. Harry grunted noncommitally, leaning over a large table emblazoned with the gryffindor colours overlaid with a collosal picture of himself and snorting a generous line of buttercrack.

"YEEEAAAHHHH!" He railed another and followed it up by skulling half a bottle of Bertie Botts every flavour bourbon. He stood and saluted the mural on the far wall, which again depicted him, this time breaking the neck of Hufflepuffs last seeker in a bold play that had seen Gryffindor take home the quiddich cup once again. Amy grew bored of the fire and began to lay into a tray of fancy chocolates, held aloft by a quivering elf clad in naught but a badly-cured leather bondage mask.

"So what brings you to our illustrious house?" Inquired the Slytherin head boy, who went by the name of Draco. "Most of the new students opt for that asshole Harry's house." The Doctor managed to keep a poker face as a chunk of the roof fell in a rush of stinking water, crushing one of the few mouldering cots which lay scattered around the room.

"Well, in all honesty I'm not a student. There was just a rather unfortunate incident with an old hat, and I've somehow ended up here." He prodded gingerly at his swollen eye, which was suppurating pungent yellow gunk in astonishing volumes.

"Not a student? Why are you here then? I said down Crabbe!" He barked, stabbing his wand viciously into the lumpy back of his mount. It moaned, a barely-conscious look of dismay drifting across its doughy features.

"I saw some strange energies emanating from this place. It appears you've harnessed it to some extent, but irrational energies are not to be trusted. I would go as far as to say that every moment we're here puts us in mortal danger!" He spoke with urgency, pausing briefly mid-sentence to change into a fresh pair of skinny-leg jeans.

"What do you suggest we do? Most of us had our wands confiscated for not being in Gryffindor. We're helpless." He gestured passionately with one bloodless claw, causing two of his fingernails to slough off. The Doctor retrieve them from the floor, chewing on them speculatively and tapping the thaumometer against the side of his head.

"Now now, all things in time." He trilled, gaining enough purchase on Goyles craggy face to hoist himself up and come face-to-face with Draco's scowl. "First off, lets talk about this Harry fellow."

The path up to the headmasters office was apparently sealed to all without the password, guarded by a fearsome gargoyle immune to all magic. Fortunately, the wizards of old had not counted on such a contingency as a sonic screwdriver, and the mighty stone beast yeilded almost immediately, cringing and trying to stuff great knobly stone digits in its batlike ears. The Doctor ascended the spiral stairs to the office, the febrile Draco in tow. At the head of the stairs was a thick, iron-banded door, blackened with age and heavy with sorcery. The imposing demeanor of it was offset somewhat by the pink ribbons tied gaily around the heavy knocker. Putting his ear to the warm, thrumming wood, the Doctor could hear nothing from the interior.

"Geronimo!" He whispered, pushing the door energetically. It opened on silent hinges.

The office was blazing and bright, the floorspace wide as a ballroom. Tables and benches described a maze through the centre of the room, and on every table sat artifacts of every conceivable material and make. The Doctor began to prance around excitedly from table to table like a child on speed.

"Oh, but this is amazing!" He blurted. "There's alien technology I haven't seen since the time war! Zaabi psi-dampers, useless but attractive; Agrillian pleasure enhancer needles, misleadingly deadly; A rather well preserved Phyrexian skirge; Oh, now this is something indeed!" He paused for a moment, picking up a small glass ball covered in blunt spines. It generated a weak red light. He turned back to Draco, his face stripped of its customary vacant grin.

"This is Time Lord technology. How did people in this era- in this place!- get the artifice of my lost people?" He implored. Draco shrugged and shoved at a pile of glossy magazines.

"Yeah, pretty disappointing. The only issues of Warlocks Weekly he has are the Harry Potter Swimsuit editions." The doctor stepped up and grabbed him by the lapel, causing him to start haemorrhaging from the nose.

"No! You don't understand, this should have been banished from causality forever! How could-" He cut off, dropping Draco and starting to run to the large mahogany desk at the far end of the room. A golden bird, with feathers seemingly cast from fire, sat despondently on a perch in front of a massive photograph of Harry hanging on the wall. He looked smoulderingly at the Doctor as he approached, his rich chestnut hair waving in the wind, his pert lips seeming to beg fo- The Doctor hurriedly looked down at the bird.

"Who's a good boy then? Does the good boy wanna cracker?" He cooed. The bird squawked in the positive.

"Well that's a terrible shame," He said. "Because I haven't got one." The phoenix shrieked angrily.

"Don't tease phoenixes! I've heard they can obliterate you with heavenly fire!" Draco barked. The bird chose that moment to burst into flame, shrieking and fluttering. The Doctor Snorted.

"A phoenix? That's a laugh if ever there was one. This is a time-hawk, possibly the least threatening beast ever to stalk the multiverse. Gosh, a little bit of time manipulation and suddenly you humans start ranting about heavenly fire. And you!" He barked at the bird, "Stop making such a fuss!" Immediately the flames rescinded and the bird slouched on its perch, contriving to look a touch ashamed.

"There now!" He said, and began to poke through the various papers and swimsuit editions cluttering the desk. Eventually, his hand touched warm leather, and he pulled it out triumphantly.

"I suspected as much!" He cried. In his hand was a small leatherbound book, bloated with age and water damage. Its front was marred by a large hole, as though something had been stabbed through it at some point in the past. All the pages were black with spilt ink.

"Congratulations, you're the most worthless person I've ever met." Said Draco. "I thought we were going to cause some damage, but instead you're here to root through the garbage." The Doctor waved the book excitedly in Dracos face.

"Don't you see what this means?" Draco scrunched his face in thought, his head tilted.

"You're an idiot?" The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"There's no help for some people. what it means is, we really have to hurry! This is possibly the worst scenario I can possibly envision!" He grinned resplendently, managing to surreptitiously pocket one of the magazines whilst talking. Draco raised an eyebrow, but offered no comment.

"Well? What are we waiting for! Geronimo!" He yelled, running to the staircase and diving headfirst down it. There was a series of ugly crunching noises. Draco stood at the top, staring down into the gloom. After about seven seconds, a weak voice filtered up.

"I'm ok!" The Doctor called. The sound of his limping footfalls were heard, slowly fading. Draco shrugged and, pausing only to upset a fully laden display cabinet, descended the stairs after the Doctor.

Amy was just beginning to get the hang of potions, or at least the portion of potions that involved sabotaging the other students, when her enthusiastic if misguided efforts were interupted by a warbling claxon, incongruous in the candle-lit gloom. The cauldron next to hers exploded violently, the thin screaming of its scalded user bringing a thin smile to her lips. The professor started, throwing aside the semi-conscious student he had been beating with a cane.

"Fifty points from Slytherin!" He barked. "I mean, everybody to the great hall. And one hundred points from Slytherin for confusing me like that!" Amy got to her feet and tottered for the exit, treading underfoot the howling recipient of her meddling. Emerging from the mess of dim stone corridors, she entered the great hall, which by now was approaching capacity. On the dais at the far end of the room the Doctor stood, tapping his foot impatiently and flailing his arms.

"Ladies! Gentlemen! Uh- Kind of- small green things?" He squinted at a house-elf, which recoiled cringingly against a wall. He shook his head.

"At any rate, I have solved the case and saved us all!" He ejaculated.

"From what?" Came a voice from the crowd.

"From an evil most foul!" He held the ruined book aloft proudly.

"Waste-paper?" Replied the nameless voice.

"Oh, come on" Said the Doctor, mincing furiously. "Has noone else seen the patterns? They're right there, plain as day!" He rolled his eyes as a few of the crowd sounded in the negative.

"Alright well, This young man here," He pulled Draco into a one-armed hug, breaking half his ribs and sending him rolling bonelessly to the floor. "This brilliant young man has told me the whole history. This Potter child, This dark lord, the whole shemozzle!" The named boy burst forth from the crowd, pounding up the stairs and attempting to fly-kick the Doctor in the face. He ducked, and Harry went asprawl on the ground.

"This is the diary of that Volde-whatsit, is that not right?" The doctor cried.

"By gosh, he's right! How did he get into my office?" Crooned the headmaster breathily, slicking his threadbare hair back.

"Unimportant! What is important however is that you saw some sort of spectre emerge from this! There's only one race who ever mastered biological reconstruction from memory." He drew forth his sonic screwdriver, and set it to pulverize. placing it against the side of Harrys head, he cried "Geronimo!" and flicked the switch.

"EX-PEL-EE-AR-MUS!" A deep barritone warble echoed through the chamber, and the screwdriver flew from the Doctors hand. From the back of the room, two shadowy figures materialized, each the rough shape of a pyramid.

"Aha!" The Doctor leapt to his feet, pumping his arm victoriously. The two figures moved silently into the light, revealing them to be metal, tank-like constructs, viewing the world through a single stalk-bound eye. Atop the blocky beasts sat conical hats, adorned with stars and moons.

"I told you! I told you wizards hats were cool!" The Doctor did a flat-footed jig.

"YOU ARE THE DOC-TOR." One of the things spoke, in a creaking electrical timbre.

"Yes, I am. And you are the Daleks. Why are you here? You should be stuck with your master in the time war!"

"THE CRE-A-TOR WAS DE-STROYED. WE ARE HERE TO FOS-TER HIS RE-BIRTH." The Doctor nodded, grinning maniacally.

"Of course, of course. I knew it was a poor pseudonym. Voldemort? Sounds like an eleven year olds idea. Tom Riddle? I mean, come on More like He-who-shall-not-be-named-well!" He cackled, running to the nearest row of students and trying to induce them to high-five him. The headmaster came up behind him, looking nervously at the steel constructs. The Doctor took in an excited breath, but before he could release it there was a scream from the dais. Harry was on his knees, holding his head and shaking.

"Arg! No! I can- Feel him inside- My mind!" The Headmaster looked shocked.

"Voldemort? But we killed him! His horcruxes are gone! He can't be back!" The Doctor looked at him sadly.

"You can't kill a memory. These horcruxes you spoke of might have helped, but there was no stopping him. It isn't Voldemort who you've fought all this time, it's-"

"Correct as always, Doctor." Said Harry in a strange cold voice. He got to his feet and fixed the assembly with a cold, triumphant gaze.

"You really are too smart for your own good." He continued, eyeing the Doctor hungrily. "If only you were a bit faster, the boy might have been saved. Still, I suppose picking the very child who inadvertently forfended my rise to power on this world was something of a stroke of genius." He walked to the closest Dalek and began to run his hands over it, examining it critically in front of the silent audience.

"My, but it has been some time hasn't it, my loyal servants? they were nothing but savages when I was first reborn, swinging their swords and worshipping that Arthur fellow. I was rather happy to give them the idea of metal armour, though." He mused, still idly petting the Dalek.

"Stop it." The Doctor yelled. "Your meddling in this world has gone on long enough. Today I stop you, Davros." Harry looked shocked, then laughed wickedly.

"Oh Doctor, I really don't give you enough credit. But you just don't get it, do you?" He sneered. "Of course not. I need not stay here any longer. I've acheived my goal. I have a new body, a strong, healthy body. With it, I shall forge the Daleks anew! Enjoy your respite today Doctor, for it is the last you shall get." He clicked his fingers, and both he and the Daleks vanished.

"Quick! Amy! To the Tardis! We can still track him down!" The Doctor yelled furiously, dashing down the steps towards his blue box. Amy met him at the door, her puffy cheeks working like crimson bellows.

"But Doctor, what about all that Irrational Energy guff? Aren't these people still in terrible danger?" He stared around the room at the mute faces, each with the same blank stare, like sheep.

"Fuck it." He chirped, and dove into the machine. Turning in the doorway, Amy pointed into the crowd.

"You. You're coming with me." Nervously, the gimp-mask clad House elf crept through the crowd and in through the open door. She gave it a kick to help it along and closed the door behind it. After the blue box had screamed itself out of existence, a yawning silence opened in the room. At length, it was broken by the headmaster.

"Well, I think that whole episode was worth ten points from Slytherin, don't you?"


End file.
